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I Resolve Not to Relive 1972 Anymore
But the flashbacks are real
It's been a week of conversations about New Year's resolutions. And the reality is the conversations drive me nuts.
I was asked, "What are you going to do on New Year's Eve, and what are your resolutions?"
My answers are always the same.
I'm going to eat a nice dinner, have a glass or two of champagne, find a good movie on Netflix and settle in around 10 pm.
The thought of bar hopping gives me indigestion, especially on Saturday night, and more so on Saturday night when it's a celebratory holiday.
I'm still a little Covid paranoid and have no desire to spend a few hours standing shoulder to shoulder with 300 strangers while trying to get a waitress or bartender's attention.
Regarding resolutions. It's the same song year after year. I either improve, stop doing some things or resolve to think about trying new stuff. But those are all very personal. And since I'm a widower in my late sixties, I'm going to dam well do what I want. It's part of the Seniors Handbook on aging.
The chapter on widowhood and youthful aging clearly states:
As you age, feel free to live life on your own terms as long what you do is legal, ethical and moral.
